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Colorado Beach

By Susan Oloier

As we age, we tend to forget the joy of seeing things for the first time. Magnificent views we have already glimpsed - while still retaining their beauty - are eventually taken for granted. There are fewer new things to see, so the awe of taking them in becomes rare. We lose the wow! moment. Fortunately, I am able to live vicariously through my children.

As we took Highway 160 east through the town of Monte Vista with its train tracks edging the side of the road - a centipede of rusted and graffiti-covered tankers coiling in a line - and continued on through Alamosa, Justin peered out the vehicle's windshield.

"What's the hot blue stuff on the road?" he asked.

"Heat waves," Jeff answered.

"Try to get closer. It looks like water."

It was hard to convince him it was only a mirage. He believed with absolute certainty that what he saw was a puddle on the road.

"That guy on the other side of the road just drove right over it."

All we could do was smile; there was no convincing him.

Indeed, amid the warming temperatures of summer, Medano Creek in Great Sand Dunes National Park seems like a mirage, as well. The mountain snow melt feeds Medano and Sand Creeks for only a few short months out of the year. After sustaining life within the park and moving sand downstream, it seeps back into the earth to nourish the underground aquifers.

"Wow!" Justin declared wide-eyed as the dunes came into sight.

In a sea of blonde, roadside grass bleached by the sun, the dunes looked like a tan smear of paint at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Upon approach, it is hard to believe water exists there. But in the late spring and early summer, water takes divergent paths along this seeming desert. The dunes, formed by the cooperative efforts of water and wind, wear away the mountains and scatter grains across the San Luis Valley.

Great Sand Dune National Park in spring and summer is the closest thing to a beach experience we can get in Colorado. We avoided the main parking area and ventured past Point of No Return Road where, on a separate occasion, Jeff pulled a trapped automobile from the soft and sandy road. We worked hard not to be that stranded party. After all, the National Park Service warns of excessive charges to extricate a stuck vehicle.

We found a secluded area away from the throng of people peppering the dunes beyond the main parking area. We picked out our own little cove amidst the scurfpea, Indian ricegrass, and the anorexic arms of the saltbrush in order to obtain some degree of privacy from others who also sought solitude.

In the past when we had visited the park, we fought endlessly with the wind. This time, the sun inundated us with heat, but a slight breeze took the edge off. It helped to wade through the creek as the water rushed over our feet. Justin spent the entire time galloping through the cold water, picking up fistfuls of muddy sand, and pretending to be the villain Sandman of SpiderMan fame. He implored us to explore the dunes with him. I stayed behind while Zane stretched out in his screened play yard after dipping his feet in the water and heavy sand.

When Jeff returned, he commented on how the sand blistered his feet. Justin simply wanted to go back, uncaring of how hot the dunes might be.

Fortunately, we carried bug repellant. Initially, we thought the welt-sized bites forming on our legs were from sand fleas - something I experienced first-hand during a trek to the Florida Keys. But after smashing a few engorged mosquitoes, it appeared sand fleas were of little concern. Justin had nickel-sized bites on his back, but seemed entirely unaware of them; he was too busy racing around in circles in the water. He invited me to race around, too. Unfortunately, I am already far too entrenched in mores and social codes of conduct; I merely chased him around a bit until he stopped to dig a hole or scratch out hieroglyphics in the water-logged sand.

Watching Justin and Zane act giddy with enjoyment made me long for the days when time was meaningless - where I could fully immerse myself in something without worrying about slathering enough sunscreen to avoid sunburn, about carrying bug spray to prevent the spread of disease, or even about what people thought of me. It made me wonder what it would be like to see something for the first time again and say wow!